Page 43 of Love in Tandem
Somehow Zach had convinced her to keep going past Meriwether Lewis Park. As much as she hadn’t wanted to climb back onto the bike, the promise of better amenities than an out-of-order toilet and better food than peanut butter tortilla sandwiches spurred her on. Or perhaps she’d just been slightly delirious and too exhausted to argue. Who’s to say? But at least now they were here. Wherever here was.
Charlotte eyed the small town they’d entered after breaking off from the trail. “Where are we going to stay?”
“I’m sure we’ll find something.”
So far she wasn’t seeing a whole lot of “something.” A gas station and a bar, that was about it. Searching for where Zach had in mind to spend the night, she leaned forward and asked again. “Where are we going to stay?”
He pointed to the bar. “Let’s eat dinner, then we’ll figure something out.”
Zach steered them to a gravel parking lot where a small, rectangular-shaped bar named The Drink greeted them. Or rather, The Drunk, since someone had altered the sign,turning the i into a u.
Zach braked at the corner of the bar next to a large front window, where inside an older couple pointed at their tandem bicycle with amused smiles and shaking heads.
Charlotte unclipped her helmet. “I didn’t see any place for us to stay.”
Zach removed his helmet and ran a palm over his sweaty hair, making it stick up in different directions. “I’m sure we can bunk for the night in that park we passed on the edge of town.”
“What park? What are you talking about?”
“The park with the picnic benches.”
“The park with the picnic benches buried in a field of overgrown weeds?” Charlotte climbed off the bike and grabbed a post to keep her noodle legs from collapsing. She needed food. Real food. But darn it, she needed shelter too. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“We could put our sleeping bags on top of the picnic benches.”
Oh, sweet mercy. He was serious. “Zach, there’s no way I’m sleeping on those picnic benches. First off, you could barely see the benches because of all the overgrown grass. Do you know how many snakes are living beneath those benches? Millions. By morning they’ll be slithering all over us. No way. Uh-uh. Nohow. You need to come up with a better plan. A plan that at least involves a tent.”
“I’m not sure there is a better plan in this town.”
“Then why did you choose this as our stopping point? Why didn’t we stop in the town Ty mentioned near that Meriwether Park place? The one that had a hotel?”
“That place was an hour and a half ago.”
“Oh, believe me, my rear end knows exactly how long ago that place was.”
“Charlotte, every mile counts if we’re going to complete this trip on time. And I thought you wanted some real food.”
“I do want some real food.”
“Then let’s get some real food.” He motioned to the bar.
“Because a full stomach will suddenly make me okay with sleeping with reptiles?”
Zach’s hand gently wrapped around her wrist. “I will figure something out, okay? Trust me. But first, let’s get something to eat.”
Charlotte closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then nodded. But only because she was starving. She was still mad at him. And she swore on her grandmother’s grave, if he didn’t come up with a place besides a couple of weed-infested picnic benches for them to sleep, she was going to bludgeon him to death with the bicycle horn—another addition that came with the bike free of charge.
Following him into the bar, Charlotte bit back a moan as the scent of fried food gripped her stomach with a ferocious squeeze. Okay, maybe shelter could go on the back burner for now. Because whatever she was smelling, she wanted it. All of it. Right after she guzzled a two liter of pop.
The bartender, a man with bright blue eyes and a gray beard down to his chest, nodded at them from behind the bar. Zach nodded back as he led Charlotte to a small dining area with a half dozen square tables. A middle-aged couple nursing two beers and a pepperoni pizza eyed Charlotte and Zach as they settled into their seats. A country song played in the background.
“Shoot,” Zach said as soon as they settled into their seats. “I left the money outside. Mind ordering me an orange soda? I’ll be right back.”
Charlotte ordered their drinks, then wobbled back to her seat, too tired and shaky to stand at the bar and wait. How was she going to make it through another day? How was she going to make it through nine more days? What if they couldn’t finish? What if they didn’t get the money? What if her mom couldn’t afford treatment without that money? What if she called Sophia right now and asked her to come pick her up because she was going to fail anyway?
“Aw, come on,” a slurred voice said. “Stop looking so glum.”
It took Charlotte a moment to realize the voice was speaking to her. A skinny man wearing a flannel button-down shirt and red suspenders stood a few tables away, lifting his mug of beer in her direction. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Be happy.”
